Hoodwinked
by psyche001
Summary: As the world takes a tailspin into the Renaissance, facing threats like The Black Plague & political upheaval, one brave Prince finds it in his heart to see past appearances & save a girl from a family curse. (First Place - The Glory Awards : Small Glory Category)
1. Chapter 1

**Ficawesome Gift Echange- TAKE 2**

**Title: Hoodwinked**

**Written for: Quantum Fizzx**

**Written By: Psyche001**

**Rating: M**

This story was initially written for the **Ficawesome Gift Exchange**, as a gift for the lovely & talented Quantum Fizzx. It then went on to be nominated for The Glory Awards and won first place in its category: The Mini Glory Award. See here - .

Thanks to all who nominated and voted. And thanks to the judges at The Glory Awards for their choice! Happy reading!

**The story was created based on this promt (submitted by Quantum Fizzx)****: **Our pair meet when one is brought to the other as part of an arranged marriage. They may or may not be the one to whom the other is promised. Preferably a period piece.

**Disclaimer: **_All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot of Twilight, are the property of the author, Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended._

**Special note to QM:** I was thrilled when I received your name, esp after having read your work! I have spied on you a little in FFA (in a nice way of course :p) and learned that you prefer to laugh than cry when reading a story. So in understanding that you enjoy reading for fun, I decided to step away from my usual angst obsession and attempt something light and funny, as my gift to you. I've never written anything like this before, but I hope you do enjoy! There are two chapters :)

**~Hoodwinked~**

**Chapter 1**

Setting: The year 1367 - Canterbury, England.

In a not so quaint setting in the not so modest Swan Manor, which stretched across acres of lush estate atop a not so humble hilltop, lived the Grand Duke of Canterbury Lord Charles III, his wife - the Grand Duchess of Wales, and their four beautiful daughters. To foreigners and those none the wiser, the Grand Duke and Duchess had it all. Their four daughters you see, Lady Victoria, Lady Rose, Lady Alice and Lady Isabella, had faces that dropped many a male caller to his knees; skin that made the creamiest milk more akin to sand paper, blue blood that effortlessly ran the delicate lines of their veins and eyelashes that could bat a zephyr into hurricanes.

Then why, one might ask, were such creatures who had everything from wealth to beauty, not married? Why weren't noble Princes and Dukes, Counts and Marquises, Viscounts, or at the very least...Barons, lining up to take the hand of one of the Swan Ladies? And why were numerous contracts of marriage, some of which were written as early as birth, all nullified before their teenage years?

The answer lay in the _Dwyer Curse_...

Despite the effort Lord Charles put into keeping it a secret, the legend of the curse made its way like gossip on wings throughout the kingdom. It did the same in generations past and hurt any chance of marriage for his daughters.

According to the curse, any man married to a female descendant of Lord Phillip Dwyer would not live past the age of 50, and despite his virility, would never bear a son.

As it happened, Lord Charles had only daughters, and before him; Lord Samuel, Lord William, Lord Michael and Lord James V, who had all been contractually betrothed to women of the Dwyer lineage, had only daughters. Also noted, though perhaps grossly overstated, was the fact that not a single one of them lived a day past 50.

Coincidental...or fated as it may have been, in the year 1367 when things were now modern and taking a tailspin into the Renaissance, people took such things to heart! Worse yet was the fact that Lord Charles was just six days shy of his 50th birthday and had an awful knack for sneezing.

People in the kingdom observed him imperviously for signs of death, waiting to witness the fall of yet another unfortunate bastard, especially too since at that time the Black Plague was prominent. He was sure to die any day now. It was his fate. He was married to a woman of the Dwyer lineage.

Should he dare sneeze or cough in public, the entire kingdom erupted in panic. Peasants and nobles alike pushed their way forward for a view of the dying Duke, women fainted and dramatic wailing ensued.

"Dear Lord, it's happenin'!" Some would wail. "The Duke! The Duke is dying! The Black Plague has finally gotten 'im!"

But then the Duke would wipe the snot off his nose and stick his sword in any face too close. Peasants and nobles would stare and gawk in disbelief, holding their breath, frozen, until their faces turned blue, just waiting for him to take to the ground...for good. Though it never happened that way and only after it was clear that he _wasn't _in fact dying would people go about their merry business and leave him alone.

Until of course he sneezed again.

Heaven forbid Lord Charles ever caught the flu. The royal bishop lost count of the number of times he was summoned to the Duke's bedchambers. Demanded of the bishop were scented oils and holy water, his prayer books and a recitation of the Duke's last rites.

The Duke had received his last rites at least seven times by the time his youngest daughter, Lady Isabella, was 18. It got to the point where, after having heard them so often, he recited them to himself.

At the time however, the world was ignorant about things like hay fever. Still, it should have been obvious that the Duke went into sneezing fits only when he wore his Grand Hat; the one with the prominent feather that hung off the top and dangled auspiciously over his nose. Only then did his sneezing fits ensue, and even though the tickling feather posed an obvious problem, he insisted on wearing the bloody hat.

The poor Duke. He had no time for worry of things like curses and such. All he ever worried about were his daughters who had as much hope of becoming betrothed as gnarled witches with warts on their noses. In fact, it _was _a gnarled witch who started it all in the first place.

Centuries before, Lord Phillip Dwyer cancelled a marital contract between his daughter and the witch's son, of course on realizing that the boy's mother was a witch. She cast the bitter spell on the Duke's daughter and all those that would come after her. Generations long after would pay for the embarrassment and pain brought upon her son and she made no secret of letting everyone know what she had done.

Or at least...so it was told, for it was simply a tale.

Truth or not, fear was instilled in the hearts of all men in the kingdom, especially since the past men who had been tricked into marrying women of the Dywer lineage had all died before 50 and never bore any sons. The testimonies went back decades.

What ever was Lord Charles going to do?

He had managed to hide the curse when his daughters were still very young and contracts for marriage were blissfully made. However, once news of the curse came around and made its way through the kingdom, one by one, the contracts were all maimed.

"It's ridiculous!" Lord Charles yelled one night over a glass of spirits.

In his irritation he waved his hand in the air and caused some drink to spill over the rim. "It's nothing but bloody hearsay! A lie! It's all in their heads, I tell you! All in their heads! Look at _me_! Do I look _cursed_ to you?"

"My Lord," his wife, Lady Renee, cautioned him. "You're spilling on the rug."

"The _rug_?" He gasped, turning on her with eyes larger than the rim of his glass. "Isn't your heart the least bit troubled about the fate of your daughters? The _rug_?"

The Duchess laid her knitting in her lap and reached over to smother the flame of the candle at her side.

"It's late," she said, getting to her feet to reach for the lantern nearby. "My Lord needs his rest so that he may face the troubles he will create for himself on the 'morrow. Come now."

"I don't need rest. I need to get them husbands!"

"I assure my Lord, that there are no Princes or Viscounts milling about at this hour waiting to be tricked into marriage."

"Tricked! By the blood of my sword I swear to you woman, that if not for that face or your ability to work your seductive trickery on me, I'd have had you put before the King himself for treason!"

The Duchess stifled a giggle then, too accustomed to her husband's uncultured behaviour after his nightly drink and tapped him on his shoulder. It happened that way most nights and every night he threatened to have her summoned for beheading, feeling tricked into marriage himself. Then he'd apologize relentlessly afterward with thousands of kisses.

"You think you were tricked into marrying me, My Lord?" Duchess Renee answered with a smile. "You are forgetting that you had eyes for me regardless, even though you learned of the curse _after_ our marriage like all the others. It's like you said. It's this face that made you marry me, not any trickery nor even our contract. I saw you watching me, Lord Charles. I knew you loved me already."

He hissed heavily, tossed his glass to the side and lifted her into his arms. He did love her, but had he known of the curse before his consent to marry so many years ago, perhaps, he may have chose differently. Regardless, he couldn't resist the Duchess once she had her hooks into him, and on their way to his bedchambers through the candlelit corridors of Swan Manor, he took her to bed and besotted her with thousands of kisses.

XXX

As it so happened, the very next day, the King of Aragon - Carlisle VII and his son, Prince Edward, were due in England for the royal games. They were invited by the King of England himself, King Aro.

King Carlisle accepted the invitation willingly since his heart had been set on an allegiance between Aragon and England. He hoped his visiting the English Kingdom for the royal games would put him in Aro's favour. His small country, you see, had suffered an economic blow because of the Black Plague. His people were dying and their crops were withered. Famine was imminent. He needed a strong tie with a foreign power where help could be sought for Aragon.

His plan was simple. He would arrange for his son, Prince Edward, to marry the King's daughter, Princess Elizabeth, since rumour had it that she refused to marry her last suitor. Princess Elizabeth was no looker, not by any exaggeration, and word of her temper was discouraging to say the least, but King Carlisle was positive that his son would do what was necessary for the sake of his country.

Aragon needed Prince Edward, and the Prince was nothing if not noble at heart.

They entered England with their Cavalry - The King, his Queen Esme, and Edward. The royal ball was the first and opening event for the royal games that would span the next seven days.

On their way to the palace ballroom soon after their arrival, Prince Edward found himself looking upon a curious scene as they crossed the courtyard. The young girl sitting on the water fountain in the middle of the courtyard was quite frankly talking to herself. As if that wasn't enough of a spectacle, the topic of conversation between her and the thin air was funny enough to have her keeled over in fits of laughter, making her face cherry red.

By this point the prince was walking backwards, eyes fixated on her instead of looking where he was going. Just before he backed into his father, the strange girl poked at the air then clapped, very much like a child with an imaginary friend. This girl however was no child. She looked to be at least in her late teens.

"Edward," King Carlisle grumbled, clearing his throat loudly.

Edward spun to face forward, tugged at his robes and nodded at the royal entourage who would take them in to see King Aro and his party.

"What in heaven's name has gotten into you?" Queen Esme chided under her breath.

"My apologies, Mother," Edward replied, and very quickly forgot about the strange girl by the fountain.

Princess Elizabeth was even more unattractive in actuality than the rumours gave her credit for. And even though Edward felt the bottom most parts of his gut churn whenever she smiled at him, he would consent to an arranged marriage if an agreement could be made...for the sake of Aragon.

"Edward," Queen Esme said softly, resting her hand on her son's forearm. "Why don't you offer the princess a drink?"

"She already has one, Mother," he bit out through clenched teeth and a forced smile. "Her servants are quite efficient."

"So replace her drink with a new one."

"Of course, just allow me to get my insides in order first."

The Queen tightened her hold on her son's arm, pressing her nails so sharp into his sleeve that he felt it.

"Darling," she whispered with a faint smile. "You'll have to learn to stomach whatever it is. It would be good for King Aro to see you two connect, especially since your father is working very hard at the moment to state our case."

Adjusting the high collar of his robes he bent closer to his mother's ear and bit down on his words. "The rumours hardly did her justice, _Mother._ She's even harder to look at than expected."

Digging her nails into him deeper, she widened her smile and increased the fluttering pace of the fan in her free hand. "Minor detail. She is the princess and you are a prince. Her face won't matter once the lights are smothered in your bedchambers. She'll feel quite the same as any other woman. Her breasts look quite supple."

"Dear Lord, I just lost my gut again. Thank you for that."

With a strong hand, he undid his mother's clutch and glanced at the princess a few paces away. She was surrounded by her servants and other maidens. Then he looked over at his father in laughing conversation with King Aro, working hard at winning his favour.

With a deep breath and trepidation in his heart, Edward summoned a servant and requested another goblet of drink for the princess.

"Your Highness," he said to the princess with a small nod a few minutes later. All those around her scattered the moment he approached. The princess smiled.

"I already have a drink, My Lord," Princess Elizabeth said cheekily, noting his offering.

"I see, but this one comes from me."

With a snap of her finger, a servant materialized at her side and took her present glass away. Elizabeth, keeping her eyes on Edward, took the fresh drink from him and smiled into the cup.

"My thanks, Prince Edward. I see the rumours of your charm are true."

She smiled politely, but Edward couldn't help but notice that her attention kept averting across the hall. Moving to her side with his hands clasped behind his back, he looked in the direction she glanced.

"What, or..._who_ are we looking at, Princess?"

Her sharp intake of air and the slight blush in her cheeks betrayed her. She turned her face stiffly and raised her chin, pretending to be engrossed in something arbitrary. Edward quickly realized that the princess was in fact not interested in _him_, which both surprised and relieved him.

It was obvious by the embarrassment in her demeanour that she had been caught noticing another, someone who, perhaps, she should not be noticing?

"If it pleases the princess," he said, offering his hand to her. "I believe the waltz is about to begin."

She took his hand in all politeness and they joined the queue of nobles at the center. The music began. He bowed with the men in his line and she dipped with the women in hers. They moved with each other as the waltz progressed and after dancing for a few seconds, changed partners one after the other and made their way down the line.

Quite used to and bored with these waltzes, Edward moved automatically, making sure to keep the princess' location in check for when they were to switch back. Then an unexpected pair of hands met his at the very end of the line and his focus shifted.

He couldn't believe when his eyes fell on the fountain girl from earlier. His unmasked surprise made her self-conscious and she dropped her stare to his chest before spinning out of his hold toward another partner.

Put off center, Edward fumbled on the spot and the couple at his side danced right into him.

"Pardon me," he apologized, stepping away clumsily. Like a robot, and with his attention now focused on the fountain girl instead of the princess, he danced with his next partner without even noticing.

The next switch took him back to the Princess, and this time, it was_ he_ who was caught distracted.

"Someone has stolen your eye, Prince Edward," Elizabeth chimed, knowingly.

He blinked back to her face with a frown, clenched his jaw and swallowed. "I know not to what you refer, Princess."

"Bollocks," she whispered with a giggle, much to his surprise. "I know distraction when I see it, since I am a victim to it myself."

Twirling her on the spot, he glanced at the fountain girl again. "Perhaps you could be more specific about your distractions?"

"A terrible idea if there ever was one."

"Then allow me to ask directly."

"You may try."

"What is his name?" He asked. "Your distraction, I mean, and is he in the waltz right now?"

Flushing in her cheeks, she spun out of his hold and toward the next partner in line. Moving up the queue was faster this time, especially since Edward found himself working his way toward the fountain girl with more intent than he realized. The fact that she danced in this particular line meant that she was of noble blood. That put even more questions in his head. Such odd behaviour in nobility was uncommon. Though if he was to be completely honest with himself, he'd have admitted that her face was part of the reason he stared at her so. Petite and put together like the most delicate of china dolls, her eyes shone large and happily and her lips seemed always parted with a smile. When they met in the line again however, that smile fell away. She averted her stare and her disposition changed.

"Your name, My Lady?" He asked.

The fountain girl's eyes nervously shot down the queue to where Princess Elizabeth was being twirled.

"News travels fast I see," Edward said with a chuckle, following her stare. It was obvious that fountain girl had heard news of a possible arranged marriage between him and the princess.

Her deep eyes, not so laughing anymore, flicked back to his and she half smirked.

"I am Prince Edward of..."

"Aragon. I know," she dared to cut him off.

On the sound of her voice his eyebrows jumped up off his forehead in amusement. Apparently she didn't like his reaction because she shook her head stiffly and dipped away to the next partner.

Princess in arms again, Edward found himself more relaxed with her than before.

"Have you gotten her name?" Elizabeth asked teasingly.

"I know not to what you refer, Princess," he answered with like cheek, twirling her around with a smile.

"Her name is Lady Isabella," Elizabeth offered. "And she is the Grand Duke's daughter. However, I feel obligated to warn you."

Tightening his neck muscles around a deep breath he shook his head and regained focus on the more pressing matters. "Your Highness, I assure you that whatever it is you think you have seen does not matter. I came to your Kingdom with another idea in mind, one that ..."

You need not be so defensive, prince," she interrupted him. "You have no obligation as it pertains to me. I know what your Kingdom desires and what your father is so earnestly trying to arrange with my father right now. I also know that neither your heart nor mine are invested in it."

Stunned but impressed by her forwardness, Edward spun her away from the waltz where they could dance independently and talk privately.

"Do you even know what you're saying right now, princess?"

"I do," she answered. "And I think we can help each other."

After staring at her in mute awe for a few moments he nodded then dipped her, putting on quite the show for their onlookers.

"While I am sympathetic to your cause," she went on. "And I realize that your country needs a strong ally right now, I pray that it won't be at my expense."

"You are in love with another," he said.

She nodded with a small blush.

"May I ask?"

"Prince Phillipe will approach my father later this evening with an offer of marriage, and I regret to tell you that my father will find an allegiance with France more profitable than one with Aragon."

Glancing now at the French prince still in the waltz, Edward finally understood. Tall, lanky and pasty, the French prince made eye contact with Edward over his dance partner's head and nodded. Nodding back in comrade fashion, Edward looked back to the princess and sighed.

"I see."

"Are you disheartened, Edward?"

"Not as much as my father will be, but your honesty is admirable. However, I don't understand what you meant by we could help each other."

"Well, you could make your father understand this so that he doesn't put ideas into _my_ father's head. They seem to be quite fond of each other, and truthfully...it makes me nervous."

"You're afraid that your father may actually agree to our union then?"

"It's not impossible."

"And if I talk to my father and get him to understand, where does that leave me? How do you help me?"

"There is still hope for Aragon if a contractual betrothal is arranged between you and someone _else_ of nobility...say, a daughter of one of our members of parliament. However..." And she gestured to Lady Isabella with a pointed chin. "Lady Isabella is not a wise choice, or _any_ of the Swan Ladies for that matter."

"Why not?" He asked, intrigued by the latent mystery in her words.

"Haven't you heard of the Dwyer curse?"

"The what?"

She dropped her voice low and stepped in closer to whisper into his ear. "Any man who marries a woman of the Dwyer lineage dies before the age of 50 and can never bear a son."

His head fell back in a sudden and unexpected roar of laughter. All eyes were on them now as speculation built to an audible hum. They danced closely together, were engrossed in conversation, were whispering into each other's ears and laughing at some private joke.

King Carlisle and Queen Esme couldn't be happier as they witnessed from the head table.

"Such bollocks!" Edward wheezed through his fit of laughter. "I've never heard a more ridiculous thing!"

"Hush!" Elizabeth hissed with a pink smile on her face, whispering in a fervent high pitched sort of way. "I tell the truth! It's why none of the Swan girls have been proposed to. They come from the Dwyer line and despite their looks and nobility, no man will go near them. _They are cursed_!"

"But..." Edward mused, looking around for Lady Isabella again. He hadn't realized that the waltz had ended and that he and the princess were the only two on the dance floor being watched by everyone else in the ballroom.

Setting the princess away from him slightly, he cleared his throat and continued. "Surely then, if what you say is true, their mother is of the Dwyer line as well? Isn't she married to the Grand Duke?"

"You are right, and she is."

"So how did that happen? Did he not know of this _curse_?" He asked, emphasizing the word "curse" with a playful widening of his eyes.

"He was hoodwinked," Elizabeth whispered, with a mischievous quirk of her eyebrow. "Just like all the other men that came before him. They were all tricked into marrying the Dwyer women and every last one of them died before turning 50."

"And no sons?"

"Not a single one."

"Hahahaha! And how old is the Grand Duke?"

"He is forty nine and quite irritable. His birthday nears."

"Hahahahahahahaha!" Edward couldn't contain his amusement. "Well of course he is irritable! He's about to die!"

"I don't see why you think this is so funny..."

"It's utterly ridiculous! I don't believe a word of it."

The princess was getting progressively more annoyed with Edward's reaction and even a little embarrassed now that all eyes were on them.

"If you will excuse me, My Lord?" She asked, stepping out of their dance with a curtsey.

"I apologize for my behaviour, Princess" Edward quipped, clearing his throat again as he gave her a reverent bow. "I enjoyed our dance and will do my best to help you."

"Thank You."

He kissed the back of her hand and escorted her back to the head table.

For the remainder of the ball Edward kept his eyes out for Lady Isabella, though she seemed to had disappeared. He was even more curious about her now that he'd learned of the curse. Could that be one of the reasons for her odd behaviour?

"Good work, darling," Queen Esme said to him at dinner. "You and the princess are getting along wonderfully."

"Don't raise your hopes, Mother," he answered levelly. "It's hardly what you think."

All through dinner, Princess Elizabeth cast Edward pointed looks of concern, urging him to talk to his father since King Aro and King Carlisle were getting along better than expected. They talked politics and world events, about art and literature. And finally after dinner, when the topic of conversation came around to the epidemic of the Black Plague, Edward interjected.

"Pardon my interruption, Father. King Aro."

"Edward!" King Aro exclaimed, patting him gallantly on the back. "How wonderful it is to see you enjoying the ball. My daughter has taken a liking to you!"

"Well...we have become good friends...yes. Thank you for your invitation, my King. Father, may I have a word?"

"Can it wait until later, Edward?" Carlisle asked in slight annoyance. "We shouldn't be rude."

"Nonsense," King Aro laughed. "I have other guests I should catch up with as well. You've monopolized my time, great friend. Please enjoy the rest of the ball! We'll talk again soon."

With that, King Aro ambled over to another group where Edward noticed the French cavalry were socializing.

"Edward," Carlisle bit out. "What on earth are you doing? I was just about to..."

"Save your energy, Father," Edward cut in. "It's not going to happen. At least, not in the way you think."

"What is this?"

"The princess and I won't be getting married and you'll hardly be able to convince the King into an agreement when he's about to be blindsided by something a lot more attractive than anything you can offer."

"Edward?" Esme asked. "What is the meaning of this? You know how important this allegiance is to our country and still you..."

"Prince Phillipe is about to ask the King for Elizabeth's hand in marriage."

Both Carlisle and Esme stopped with their mouths open and turned to look at the French contingent, where conveniently, the princess had gravitated to as well.

"And I would prefer not to interfere with it," Edward went on, "since they are in love with each other. Besides, no matter how much he likes you, Aro won't marry his daughter off to the Prince of Aragon when the Prince of France is up for grabs."

"But the two of you seemed to hit it off so well," Esme complained.

"Like I said, we've become friends, allies...even."

Just as he said that, Lady Isabella came into view and Edward's attention was immediately stolen. "Not to worry though," he continued, distracted. "There may be other ways to stay connected to England."

Following their son's stare and reading his sudden enlivened expression, King Carlisle frowned.

"Please don't tell me you have eyes for one of the Swan daughters..."

Blinking out of his stare and back to his father, Edward looked surprised. "You know of them?"

"Well that's them leaving the ball right now, and by the look on your face I can't say that I'm happy about your change of focus. I pray that I am wrong."

Just then, the Grand Duke sneezed as he was leaving with his wife and daughters. The sound of the sneeze ricocheted off the expansive walls in the most ridiculous way. Everyone in the ballroom froze with a unanimous gasp - including the music.

Edward was most enthralled by the scene that unfolded next. A sneezing fit erupted from the Grand Duke, women started wailing and fainting, the Duke's daughters got incredibly flustered and clumsy about shuffling their father outside, and someone shouted, "Oh 'Mi Lord! It's happenin'! The Duke is dying!"

Another woman fainted in panic. The Duke drew his sword, narrowly missing a commoner's nose. The Duchess started to cry, Lady Isabella starting screaming at the royal curtains and Lady Rosalie doubled over in a fit of snorting laughter so scary that Edward's pores stood at attention.

"Sweet heaven above," he gasped as the commotion moved outside. "The one with the laugh, which one is that?"

"That would be Lady Rose," King Carlisle answered with a sigh. "They're all terribly cursed."

"_Hahahahahahaha!_" Edward laughed out, clutching his robes in delight. "How intriguing! I wonder what earned the drapes a good screaming at by Lady Isabella?"

"What exactly do you find intriguing about a dying man and a bunch of cursed women?!" Esme blurted.

"Whatever it is you ought to forget it at once," Carlisle scolded his son. "And if you're thinking of courting one of them, that is out of the question as well."

"I simply won't allow it," Esme gasped, clutching her throat. "A cursed woman is hardly a replacement for the Princess of England!"

"I had no shot at the Princess anyway, Mother," Edward said, pointing to the group where King Aro socialized. "Since as you can see, what I have told you has come to pass."

The princess and French prince were currently hand in hand, gleaming smiles on their faces, while their fathers clasped theirs in agreement.

"It seems to be done," Edward said. "I expect they will make the announcement tomorrow. I bid you both a good night. I shall retire to my chambers now."

XXX

The next day was just as entertaining as the last. It was the first day of the Royal Games and featured activities like hunting and croquet. As was tradition, all the men suited up and headed out to the fields while the women stayed behind with their fluttering fans and umbrellas on the lawns.

Edward came out early, his eyes on the hunt for any sign of Lady Isabella and her sisters. He wasn't sure why he was as curious as he was about the Swan Ladies, Lady Isabella in particular, but something about their story entertained him. Things rarely entertained him anymore. In fact, life had been more than depressing and stressful with the Black Death epidemic and all his political troubles. The load of pressure he carried around at his young age was more than he could stand, but he carried his cross quietly as was expected of him - as he was raised to do.

When he walked onto the lawns of the royal gardens that morning all the women noticed him. He was tall and gallant with this chiseled good looks and fair skin. His hair had a way of shining red in the sun and his eyes were a clear emerald green. He also had an ease with his body that made him graceful on his feet. The lines of his body slanted with his stance and he had a habit of opening his robes at the center to slide his hands into his pockets when he moved, making the robe bounce at his sides.

Lady Alice was the first to spot him as he walked out onto the terrace.

"Oh dear, it's him," she whispered harshly, tugging Rosalie's sleeve. "The Aragon Prince!"

Rosalie turned her fine head to the side, and on seeing him, kicked the book out of Isabella's hand, forcing her to look up.

"Bella look," she teased. "It's your prince."

Fishing her book out of the grass with a pretty scowl, Isabella sat up on her heels and hissed at her sister. "He is _not_ my prince. And hush with that kind of talk before you get me into trouble."

Victoria bent forward to look over Rosalie's head, and on seeing the fine prince surveying the gardens, giggled to herself.

"I think he's looking for you, Bella."

"Oh shut up all of you. You're all cruel teasers!"

"My God!" Alice squeaked, dropping her fan into her lap. "He just looked over this way."

A series of nervous movements ensued. Hats fell away and were scampered back to their heads, fans were snatched off the mat, frocks were straightened, and Isabella shoved her book up in front of her face.

"He's...c-c-coming ov-v-ver here!" Alice gasped, turning pink as her dependable stutter showed itself. It always did whenever she got flustered or nervous, which usually involved members of the opposite sex.

"Rosalie!" Isabella hissed when she saw Rose raise her hand to wave. "What. are. you._ doing?_"

"Just adjusting my sleeves," Rosalie taunted. "And I'd put Jacob away now if I were you. I don't think you want the Prince to..."

"Good day, My Ladies," said the prince in his smooth voice.

Spit coughs and giggle snorts, gasps and pink faces were what greeted the Prince in return. It was immediately obvious to him, that despite their looks and status, the Swan Ladies were an odd bunch. They weren't poised like the other nobles in the Kingdom. They were restless and hyper, nervous and self conscious, and always uncomfortable.

"Allow me to introduce myself," Edward said with a small bow.

"Prince Edward of Aragon. How could we not know?" Rosalie spoke up, which earned her a kick from Isabella across the mat.

Edward smiled at the very visible kick and decided to ignore it.

"I don't believe _I've_ had the pleasure, however" he said, bending slightly. "May I ask what are your names?"

By then, all the other women across the gardens were staring at the strange scene and wondering quite audibly what had gotten into the foreign prince. He was either half mad or completely stupid.

Squatting beside their mat on the lawn, the prince held his hand out to Rosalie first. In her excitement, however, Lady Rosalie snorted out the loudest and most unladylike round of laughter. He remembered it from the night before, and like then, it had the same effect on him. Uneasy goosebumps sprung and laced his body with something cold. He pulled his hand away automatically and shifted his eyes to the next sister on the mat.

"And you are?"

"A-l-l-l-l-..._Al-llllll_..." But poor Alice couldn't get her name out if her life depended on it. Her face had gone from red to blue and her knuckles turned white from clutching her skirt so hard.

"It's Alice," Isabella offered on behalf of her sister, never moving the book from in front of her face. "Her name is Alice."

"Thank you," Alice gasped as she exhaled in relief.

The prince observed the title of Lady Isabella's book and smiled. He would leave her for last. He then looked over to the third sister on the mat, the one with the vibrant red hair and striking blue eyes, but the moment they made eye contact, she froze. Her eyes widened like saucers. She stopped breathing. Her face went stricken white...and she fell flat on her back.

"Sweet Virgin Mother of..." Edward gasped, jumping to his feet. "Has she fainted?"

But none of the sisters budged, batted an eyelid or looked the slightest bit concerned. Rosalie leaned over lazily and fanned Victoria's face. Lady Isabella continued reading and Alice was still picking nervously at her frock.

Staring in horror, Edward shoved his hands into his pockets and looked around him. People were staring of course, but no one came forward to help.

"Happens all the time," an old man in garden wear said as he passed by and patted Edward on the back. "Never a chap could talk to dem ladies without eh spect'cle bein' made. She'll be OK in a moment."

Sure enough, just as Edward looked down at Lady Victoria again, she was propped up on her elbows and staring down at her wriggling feet as if she had never fainted.

At a complete loss for words, Edward glanced at the book in front of Lady Isabella's face, above which her fine hat hid the rest of her peculiar head.

"Lady Isabella," he said. "May I invite you to walk with me?"

The other three sat straight up in jerky unison, and very slowly, Isabella lowered the book to peek up at him over the edge.

Her unexpected prettiness hit him harder that day and when she squinted against the sun her brown eyes twinkled. However, Lady Isabella didn't get the chance to answer. Just as she was about to speak, a commotion broke out behind them and everyone on the lawn lurched to their feet.

"Oh Mi Lord! _The Duke!_ The Duke is dying!"

"_AGAIN?_" Edward gaffed.

Scores of men came running out of the trees with the sneezing Duke in tow, and though he tried desperately to fish for his sword, he couldn't get a good handle on it with all the commotion.

"Papa!" Isabella cried, dropping her book to the mat. She and her other sisters ran across the great expanse of lawn toward him. The Duchess could be seen running from the other end as well. As it happened, though unbeknownst to them all, the pollen of a certain flower in the forest had tickled the dear Duke's nose to aggravation and aroused his hay fever.

"It's the curse!" A woman somewhere wailed. Then the fainting started. One by one, women fainted from the anxiety. "Call the royal Bishop!"

"Callllllll the royal Bishop!"

"_Caaaaaaaalll_ the royal Bishop!" Went the echoing alert across the gardens.

More puzzled than ever, Edward scratched his head and looked on in silent wonder. Lord Charles didn't seem to be dying, though if the other men didn't get out of his way, one of_ them_ just might. He had managed to free his sword from his waist and the nearest face was about to get it.

"Unhand me! I am the _bloody_ Duke of Canterbury! Respect - _Achoo - m_e!"

It all happened in a flash and before he knew it, Edward was staring behind the retreating chaos of the Swan family as they hustled the Grand Duke out of sight.

Well Edward simply had to get to the bottom of it. He fetched Lady Isabella's book off the ground, rolled the mat up and took off behind the hullabaloo.

"And where are _you_ going?" Came his mother's voice from behind.

"Oh Mother, there you are," Edward chimed, pretentiously. "Enjoying the English weather?"

"Edward Carlisle Cullen the eighth!" Queen Esme scolded. "I forbid you to go after those girls."

"Just one in particular," he corrected her. "And I'm simply going to return her belongings."

"Edward," she hissed under her breath. "Haven't you witnessed the spectacles along with the rest of us? That entire family is cursed. If it's not one thing it's the other. The stories are atrocious and the chaos is embarrassing! I'm not about to watch you walk right into it."

"You honestly believe all this bollocks about a curse?"

Widening her eyes, the Queen covered her mouth with a delicate hand and nodded.

"Watch your language, and why do you think none of them are married?" She challenged. "No man will go near them, not even for their nobility."

"Well _I _think it's all rather amusing," Edward said smilingly. "In fact, I'm quite happy to be here to witness the Duke's last days before his 50th birthday. I just_ have_ to see if he will survive it. All this talk about witches and spells makes absolutely no sense."

"Look, your father is on his way over. Thank goodness. Maybe he can talk some sense into you."

With a quick glance at the returning parties, Edward kissed his mother's forehead and bid her farewell.

"Please greet him for me, Mother. I will meet you both for dinner."

And with that, the prince skipped away in the direction of the Swan commotion.

XXX

**A/N: That's chapter 1! Go straight on over to chapter 2...**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

It wasn't hard to get a horse borrowed. The guards knew who he was and gave him whatever he wanted, including directions to the Swan Manor. He didn't know what he would say to any of them once he arrived there, or even what he intended to do. His curiosity was slowly morphing into a mild case of obsession, something he couldn't explain even to himself. He just had to have a conversation with Lady Isabella - just one and he'd know whether he was sincerely interested or not.

He only knew that the moment he laid eyes on her by the fountain something caught his interest. Be it her peculiarity or her face, something caught him off guard and he wanted to know more, especially now since learning about the curse.

He tied the horse to a tree at the foot of the manor hill, not wanting to announce his presence just yet, made his way up the incline and across the expansive property toward the mansion.

There were voices and clanking of things everywhere. Servants were yelling. Nobles were yelling. He even saw men running to and from the house around the side. It seemed he had walked into another bizarre scene of chaos, or maybe it was the continuation of the one that had started at the Royal Games. For a few moments he actually feared that the Duke _was_ in fact dying.

Unsatisfied with his location, he skulked around to the side of the manor and made his way near to the back where an open terrace gave him a better vantage point. There the Duke was, lying on an outdoor sofa bed with his daughters and wife all flanked around him.

"We have word that the Bishop is on his way," a servant said, twisting her apron in into fearful knots. She was terrified.

"I don't need the _bloody_ Bishop!" Lord Charles screamed, making the servant jump to tears. "I haven't sneezed in more than ten minutes! Tell him not to bother!"

"Charles!" His wife retorted.

"Papa is there anything you need?" Lady Isabella offered. At the sound of her voice, Edward's ears perked up.

"Yes! I need you to get a husband before I die!" Lord Charles sputtered, knocking his hat off his head in his tantrum.

"I'm sorry we can't be better for you, Father," Lady Alice said. "But we can't help that people are afraid of us."

"There is no curse! I swear to you, if I die today it will be from a heart attack caused by the stress of seeing you unloved!"

As he said that, Lady Victoria fell into a ball of poofy dress on the floor and started to cry.

"Now look at what you've done," Duchess Renee said to her husband, rubbing her daughter's back consolingly.

"All hope is not lost, Father," Lady Alice spoke up. "Sir Jasper promised to call on me today. If not for my stutter, I think we could actually have a good conversation some time."

A strong hand came down on Edward's shoulder then. He spun around in alarm and pressed his back to the wall, even more offset when he looked up into the face of a burly young man who looked like one of the stock hands.

"What'er ya doin' round here?" The man asked.

"Pardon me, Lad. I came by to return these to Lady Isabella," Edward replied, showing the items in his hands.

"You look like one of 'em royalty."

"Prince Edward of Aragon at your service."

The boy passed his eyes up and down Edward and stepped back, unhanding him.

"Why is a prince spying on Lady Isabella from out here?"

"I'm afraid I don't want to alarm her. She seems to be...pressed...at the moment with the matter of her father's death..._health._ I meant health!" He mentally scolded himself for the gaff. "What is your name, kind sir?"

"They call me Emmett."

"Mr. Emmett, may I interest you in a few pieces of gold perhaps? In return for your silence, of course."

Emmett's eyes sparkled at the gold coins Edward pulled from his pocket, and without needing to think it over, took the three pieces and barreled away. He stopped after a few steps and turned back.

"That's Lady Rose's blanket you carry," he pointed out.

"Oh is it?" Edward asked, holding it out. "What of it?"

"Give it to me. I should like to return it to her mi'self."

With one eyebrow arched, Edward handed the blanket over to Emmett and watched him walk around to the back of the manor a good distance away from the terrace where the family was still fussing over the Duke.

Moving strategically, Emmett made himself visible to Lady Rose from afar. He raised the blanket in his hands and she waved him over.

As if on auto-pilot, Emmett hurried toward the terrace once he had her attention. Chuckling to himself, Edward noted in a low and amused voice. "That bastard has eyes for Lady Rose."

Just as Emmett offered the blanket to Rose and bid her hello, she opened her mouth and snorted out a round of heinous, high pitched giggles. Edward saw the deflection in Emmett's expression, an embarrassment he tried to mask by smiling and nodding reverently, but when Lady Rose couldn't contain her blushing or excitement after a good minute of hair raising snorting, the poor lad excused himself.

Cringing until the last second when Lady Rose shut her pretty trap, Edward held his hands over his ears and prayed for her to stop. When finally she did, a servant came out onto the terrace and announced Sir Jasper's arrival. At once, Alice jumped out of her chair and nervously balled her fists into her skirt.

"Alice, just breathe," The Duchess advised her daughter. "Girls, we ought to give Alice some privacy."

"Follow me, Jacob," Isabella chimed as she danced behind her mother, poking playfully at the air. Edward noted that there was no other man out there besides her father.

"Jacob?" Edward questioned himself, ponderously.

As they were walking back into the house with The Duke in tow, Sir Jasper materialized, and much to Edward's delight, another scene played off right there in plain sight. He almost couldn't believe his luck.

Sir Jasper removed his hat and bowed gallantly before them all.

"Greetings, My Lord and Ladies," he said. The Duchess gave a quick curtsey and Lord Charles waved him on as he moved into the house.

"You ladies are ravishing today as always," he said to the sisters as they passed him on their way inside, one at a time.

"Lady Victoria," Sir Jasper greeted. "How are you today?"

Of course that meant that Victoria had to stop and acknowledge him in return, which meant an acute slaying of nerves, which then froze her on the spot, lungs included...and Lady Victoria fainted.

Because they knew her so well, Isabella and Rose were prepared. Rose simply caught her from behind, breaking the fall, lowered her body to the ground and took her by one ankle. Isabella took the next ankle and together they dragged Victoria's lifeless body into the mansion; many apologies and giggle snorts offered to the good Sir in the process.

"Be careful with her head, Jacob," Isabella called, and again Edward noted with a curious tilt of his head, that there was no other male around at that point besides Jasper.

Visibly stunned, Sir Jasper turned to Alice and shook his head. "I don't think I'll ever get accustomed to that. I didn't even touch her this time."

"W-w-w-_wwell_," Alice managed to say, blue-faced and blushing. "S-sh-shee c-c-c-cannnnn't help it. S-s-sssshe isn't acc-c-cc-ccccc-cccustomed to m-m-men wanting to t-t-t-ttttalk to her."

"And is Jacob the name of Lady Isabella's imaginary friend?" Jasper asked, scratching his head with one eyebrow in the air. "I can never remember."

"W-wwhen he's g-g-ggggood."

"And when he's bad?"

"M-mm-mutt!"

Edward almost burst out in giggles himself. That certainly explained why Lady Isabella was talking to herself at the fountain and why she had been screaming at the curtains in the ballroom the night before. She had an imaginary friend. How peculiar!

Amazing also, was the fact that Alice was fine before Sir Jasper arrived. She had been talking with her family without a single stuttering syllable. Now as Edward looked on at Sir Jasper's face, he could see sense his discomfort at Alice's awkwardness.

"Please, let's sit," Jasper suggested, leading her further toward a chair. "I'd like you to try relaxing for a bit. Please don't be overwhelmed by me. I hear when you speak with your sisters. You are fine when you talk to them. Try to relax with me."

So they sat, but it didn't help her to relax. In fact, the more Jasper focused on Alice and the closer he inclined toward her, the tighter she clutched her skirt, the smaller she squinted her eyes, and the harder the words came out. Her face went from blue to purple, and before long, spit bubbles were landing on Sir Jasper's nose.

It was awfully stressful to witness and Edward found himself empathizing with Alice and her sisters the more he learned. Especially so when Sir Jasper got up to leave only twenty minutes into his visit, having had no luck in conversing with Alice. It was much too stressful for her and he hated to cause her stress. He bent sweetly and kissed her hand, begged her not to worry, then left with a promise to call on her again.

The moment he left Alice broke down in tears, and because this kind of thing happened so often, a hoard of servants were waiting nearby with hot towels, scones and tea in order to make her happy again. Alice didn't want tea this time, however. She threw a scone across the terrace in frustration, lifted her dress from around her ankles and ran into the house, crying.

Something broke inside of Edward. He wasn't amused anymore. In fact, he felt guilty for ever finding humor in what he now understood to be their pain. He walked around the manor to the front with Lady Isabella's book held close to his chest, deep in thought. He stopped by a window when a voice from inside caught his ear. He couldn't see inside because the window was too high, but he knew the sound of her voice by then.

"You'll never run away from me, will you Jacob?" He heard her say. "You're the only one who will love me despite my curse. Who knows, even if you die in my mind before you turn 50, at least I'd have had your company for more than thirty years by then, and that's all I need really. That's good enough for me."

Sullen and dejected, Edward moved to the front door and set her book gently on the step. He then made his way down the hill to his tied horse and rode back to the palace.

XXX

King Carlisle was beside him with disbelief when his son came to him with a proposition two days later. He sat with his head held down, clutching both sides of his head as if he was sick.

"Your mother will have a heart attack," Carlisle groaned. "This is preposterous."

"It isn't, Father, not when you think of it objectively. It will give you what you want and Aragon will benefit. We can forge strong ties with England this way. The Duke is of great importance in their parliament. He will be very pleased and will do anything to make sure at least one of his daughters is happy."

"The Duke will be dead in two days!" King Carlisle yelped.

Letting out a deflating breath of air, Edward shook his head. "I won't believe it until I see it with my own eyes. Even if he does die, I am sure the King will see to it that his family is well looked after in his wake. He wants to help Aragon, Father. King Aro will not resist aid to Aragon if I am married to a noble member of his Kingdom."

"Edward you are forgetting the most important thing here. If you marry this girl, for whatever reason, you too will become..._cursed_. I will not let you sacrifice yourself like this...not even for Aragon."

"I was sacrificing myself anyway through a marriage to Elizabeth. A marriage without love is sacrifice, and who said this was only for Aragon's sake?" Edward answered, turning his stare out the window in the direction of Swan Manor.

"You couldn't possibly love this girl already. You haven't even met her officially, haven't had a single conversation!"

"I may not love her now, but there is something unspoiled and unmistakably innocent about her. She is untouched and beautiful. I _will_ love her. And since when does love matter to you? You were about to marry me off to Princess Elizabeth knowing I did not love her."

"Point taken, but what about the curse?"

"I care not of the curse. Like I said, I'd have to see it in order to believe it."

"But the signs are everywhere!"

"What signs? The only sign I've seen is four young girls who have become victims to public humiliation. The only reason they are unmarried is because they were _made_ un-marriable by the public and by their own awkwardness. Lady Rose laughs like a dying boar...a wretched sound if there ever was one. Interaction with Lady Victoria is downright impossible because of her knack for fainting when in close proximity to the opposite sex. Lady Alice develops an instantaneous stutter out of sheer anxiety and Lady Isabella has befriended an imaginary man to compensate for her loneliness.

"These are the reasons they are not married, Father. They are odd and out of place, hyper and uncultured, not to mention...social misfits. It has very little to do with any curse if you ask me. Someone has to break this cycle, and I am willing to try."

"Why do you care about this so much?"

"I can't explain it. Let's just say something happened inside of me the day I saw a girl splashing about by herself in a fountain, and it's something I'd rather like to see again."

"You are serious about this."

"I am."

"Is there anything I can say to convince you otherwise?"

"You know I won't do it without your consent, Father. I am asking for your consent."

It took the King more than a little while to come to terms with what his son was asking of him. He paced the room agitatedly, pressed his thumb to the bridge of his nose, adjusted his robes and tugged at his collar until he broke out in fetid perspiration. After much harrowing he nodded at his feet and called his son to him with ringed fingers.

Clasping Edward's shoulder, he said, "You were willing to give yourself for the sake of Aragon. How can I deny you this? You still have Aragon at heart even though your methods are unorthodox. I pray that your suspicion about this curse is true, son, or God help us all. At least I'll be well dead and gone by the time you're 50. The only problem now is the matter of you bearing no heir to your throne. Aha! Perhaps you can bear a son with one of your mistresses! I can arrange mistresses."

"Father..." Edward warned, to which Carlisle raised his hands in surrender.

"I will break the news to your mother. Wish me luck. Go now, go to the Duke as fast as you can. Lord only knows how much time he has left."

And so, Prince Edward rode back to Swan Manor like a man on wings, cutting through the beating wind as it slapped his face and tousled his hair.

The Duke almost _did_ die of shock when Edward presented himself. He fell into his armchair and stared at Edward with wide, glassy eyes before he could find his voice.

"My Isabella..." Lord Charles muttered, clasping his heart as if it hurt.

"Does it please you, My Lord?" Edward asked, concerned. "I promise to give her everything deserving of a princess and wife who will one day become the Queen of Aragon. My eyes have found great favour in what they find when they look upon her."

At the time, Lady Isabella was out in the gardens with her sisters...and Jacob, trying to give Alice lessons in talking to Jasper without a stutter. She even let Alice use Jacob as a stand in.

"It's not quite the same, Bella," Alice complained. "He has to be a real boy for it to..."

"Shhh! Don't let him hear you say that!" Bella hissed.

Back in the sitting room, the Duke and Duchess were most relieved that Edward showed up with his proposition when the girls were otherwise occupied, since this would have surely brought the entire house falling down with yet another charade.

"My Prince," Lord Charles enthused, kissing the back of Edward's hand. "Please tell me this isn't a trick. There have been way too many tricks involved in this family's history, and as much as you bring music to my ears right now, I still have my dear Isabella's happiness to consider."

"There is no trick, my Lord. I am committed to this decision and have my father's blessing, King Carlisle. As long as you agree, and as long as she will have me, I am hers."

Tears sprung to the Duchess' eyes then. She clutched the bodice of her dress and took a deep breath, then threw herself into Edward's unprepared arms.

"Of course she will have you," Renee wept, knowing for sure that she had heard Isabella mistakenly call Jacob by Edward's name at least twice already. "Just sign here."

The fact that a drawer of written up contracts was ready and waiting for an unlikely occasion like this didn't sway Edward in the least. He smirked in amusement and at their distrust, but read through the contract, skimming over details about the dowry, preferring that his father deal with those parts.

"Do me a favour, My Lord," Edward said.

"Anything."

"Date this contract forward to the 15th," Edward said. "On that day you will sign with me. In the meanwhile, let me take it to my father for further review and I will call again tomorrow."

"You want us to agree in writing on the 15th? But...that's the day..._after my birthday_."

"Precisely," Edward answered with a cheeky wink. "I expect you to be here when I come calling on the 15th, My Lord. I must head back now. Please give my regards and best wishes to Lady Isabella and if for some reason there is a change of heart, send word and I shall come sooner than tomorrow. Good day My Lord, My Lady."

And with a dutiful bow, he left.

Stunned to immobility, the Duke and Duchess stared after the leaving Prince with dropped jaws.

"Did you see what he just did?" The Duke asked in awe. "That boy just dated the contract to the day after my birthday, _knowingly_."

"He doesn't care about the curse," Renee whispered, touching her throat emotionally.

"Better than that, my love," Charles said with a smile. "He doesn't believe a word of it. He is strong in faith. Sweet, merciful Ale. I never thought I'd see the day."

XXX

Walking back to the house, Alice grabbed Isabella by the arm and pointed around the side of the manor.

"Isn't that...?"

The man that swung himself over the top of a horse then galloped through the high gates looked just like the Prince of Aragon.

Frowning at the disappearing horse, Isabella stood on the spot while her sisters all rushed inside hurriedly. She wasn't sure she wanted to know why the Prince was at the manor. In fact, she was determined not to think that his visiting was for any reason other than to make sure she had gotten her book. Emmett confided in her that he was the one who left her book on the front stoop two days ago. Even so, why would he come all that way just to make sure she had gotten it? And why was she standing there thinking that his visiting had anything to do with her at all?

Ever since the waltz at the royal ball she couldn't get thoughts of the prince out of her head. Thoughts that shouldn't have been there if she knew what was good for her. No commoner wanted anything to do with her, far less for a prince...regardless from where.

If she was honest with herself however, she'd have admitted to the secret joy she felt in her heart when King Aro announced the engagement of Princess Elizabeth to Prince Phillipe. But still, what good did that joy do when no part of Prince Edward would ever be hers, even if she thought she had seen something like interest in his eyes when they waltzed?

_That's because it wasn't interest,_ Jacob piped up in her head. _It was curiosity. It's not the first time someone has thought you to be strange._

Now that she had stood on that spot and watched the horse disappear from sight and watched every last speck of dust settle back into place, she turned to take the terrace steps.

When she looked up her entire family was standing at the top looking down at her with faces gone ashen white. Renee seemed to be crying. In fact, Lord Charles seemed to be crying, and all three of her sisters were staring at her with eyes as large as dinner plates.

"What is it?" She cried out in alarm, running up the stairs to clutch her father's hands. "Papa, are you ill?"

"You're never going to believe it," he said to her, squeezing her hands then cupping her small face. "My child! The Prince of Aragon just came by to ask for your hand in marriage."

Victoria fainted then from the anxiety, and Rosalie started to cry.

"What on earth are you talking about." Isabella muttered, stepping away from Charles defensively, a sharp frown creasing her pretty features.

It was impossible, preposterous even. It was a joke and they were the cruelest, nastiest people on the face of the earth for teasing her like that.

"Stop it!" She screamed at them, feeling tears sting her eyes. "What an awful, cruel joke! Why do you tease me?"

"Bella!" Alice cried out, grabbing her sister by the shoulders. "It's not a trick! It's the truth! The prince just presented himself to father."

Rosalie wailed harder.

Withdrawing into herself, Isabella became a shell of shock and defensiveness. She didn't trust it. She didn't know if to believe it or to allow hope to start setting in. That only meant opening herself to disappointment. Disappointment lead to pain - a kind of pain she knew she could live without. She was already resolved to the idea of life without companionship. Why would this seed of hope come now to taunt her like this?

"He doesn't know about the curse, does he? That's why he proposed. Why didn't you tell him, Father?" She was screaming now, fright claiming every pocket of emotion within her. "_Why didn't you tell him_!"

"He knows," Lord Charles answered, pain crossing his face as he observed his daughters sadly. This should have been happy news, but all he saw was fear and pain and years of damage in motion. Victoria was on the floor. Rosalie was bawling her eyes out in jealousy. Alice was trying to be brave but he could see fear in her eyes too, fear for her sister lest this never came to pass; and Isabella was a boiling pot of suspicion and anger. She was too scared to believe it was true.

"He knows about the curse, Bella. He doesn't care about it," he said to his daughter.

"Everybody cares," she bit out. "_Everyone _cares! The only one who doesn't care is Jacob."

"Jacob isn't real, Bella," Renee answered, worriedly.

"Hush!" She hissed, before escaping on light foot to her room.

"Mother!" Alice shrieked, running behind her sister. "Get the maids to bring her some tea!"

Hours passed and still Isabella refused to emerge from her room. She was afraid that coming out meant having to face inevitable disappointment, the moment when Edward would realize his mistake and change his mind.

It wouldn't be the first time a contract for marriage had been nullified in her family, only this time she was old enough to feel the shame when it happened. This time she actually cared about the outcome.

The only reason she left her room the day after was because it was her father's birthday and possibly his last day alive. When she entered the living area and saw her father lying on the sofa bed with the Bishop at his side, she fell to her knees and wept against this arm.

"Papa, I'm sorry."

His hand came down on her head gently and he smiled weakly. "You don't need to be sorry, my Bella."

"Are you dying, Papa? Are you ill?"

"I am not, except with worry for you. I feel fine. I just don't understand why you are so upset about all this. I thought you would be happy."

"I'm afraid to be happy." She wept softly. "If I let myself be happy he will change his mind. I just know it."

"Here," he said, handing her a scrolled letter. "He called again today and left this for you."

Wiping her tears away she blinked at the scroll being handed to her and took it wordlessly. She sought solitude by the window where she unraveled it and read silently, not noticing when her mother and sisters entered the room.

_My Lady, _

_I pray__ that I have not caused you alarm by asking for your hand so suddenly. I hoped only to bring you joy and perhaps some promise of a future happier than the one already mapped for you. I will call again tomorrow whence I shall sign the contract together with my parents and yours, hoping for your willful agreement. Should you accept my offer, please send word to me today in writing, or else I shall take your silence as a sign of your rejection and will disturb you no more. Let not your heart be troubled about the curse, for such troubles do not reside within mine. What resides in mine, my dear Lady, is your smile, your face and a charm with which you have stolen my affections. I await your word. I await the blissful moment whence I shall meet the girl I found by the fountain.  
_

_Your Prince,  
_

_Edward._

"Well?! _What does it say_!" Rosalie squealed, bouncing over Isabella's shoulder. She all but grabbed the scroll out of her sister's hands and read it with scanning eyes. The note was passed from hand to hand until finally they all looked at her in expectation.

"What are you going to say?" Victoria asked.

"Fountain?" Isabella whispered to herself, staring off into space, still thinking about the Prince's words. She remembered the day Edward arrived at the Palace. She had gone to sit at the fountain, hoping to sneak a closer peek of the prince, having heard numerous rumors about him - the most prevalent being that he was promised to Princess Elizabeth. At first sight she thought him beautiful but quickly dismissed it, feeling foolishly optimistic. He stood true to every rumor about his poise and absorbing demeanor, she observed, exuding an easy grace that came off as charming instead of narcissistic. Princess Elizabeth was disgustingly lucky. Not wanting to be caught staring, she had sought distraction with an ever reliable Jacob who had done something rather silly in the water fountain just then. What Isabella hadn't realized just mere moments after, however, was that the Prince of Aragon had noticed her too.

"Oh Bella," Alice crooned, pulling her back to the present moment. "Please, for heaven's sake! Write him back! Write him back and tell him yes!"

"He wants you to write back," Rose said with a small smile. She had since stopped crying, deciding to be happy for her sister instead. Maybe this was new hope for them all.

"What?" Isabella floundered with a flickering frown.

"He said, '_I await your word'_. He's hoping you say yes."

"Of course he wants her to say yes," the Queen interjected, moving over to put a soft hand on Bella's cheek.

After biting on her lip long enough, the beginnings of hope started claiming the young girl's heart. She couldn't believe she was allowing herself hope. She couldn't believe she was allowing speckles of fluttering joy to prod at her belly's insides. With a hand pressed to her stomach, she pushed inwardly against the anxiety and closed her eyes. When she opened them again her family members were staring back at her expectantly, waiting, clutching to each other.

With a sharp nod, a racing heart and nervous swallowing of nothing at all, she heard herself breathe out the word, "Yes."

All the women at once dashed to the cabinet to fetch paper and ink, squealing and bouncing so hard their curls started unraveling.

They crowded Isabella at the long dining table as she dipped the pen in the ink. After nine botched attempts, yelling, pushing, and torn paper everywhere she shooed them all away so that she could attempt it alone in quiet.

Not particularly eloquent with words, she decided to keep it simple.

_Dear Prince of Aragon,_

_As long as you have not been tricked and sincerely want my hand, it is yours._

_Your Lady,_

_Isabella._

It could have been her imagination, but she thought she heard a faint tinkle of tiny bells and a whispering breeze when she dotted her name. Looking over at her father on the sofa bed, she smiled as a strange sense of renewal washed over her. Lord Charles III sat up and frowned as if he had felt it too. Then after exchanging an eerie glance, they laughed together and sent the letter off to Prince Edward with the messenger.

XXX

When Lord Charles III opened his drunken eyes on the day after his birthday, he knew that if the curse was ever real it had been broken with Edward and Bella. He was the first man in decades to offer himself willingly to a woman of the Dwyer lineage without trickery or secrets involved. Special too was his strong conviction having knowledge of the curse beforehand. When Isabella finally accepted it in her heart the chimes broke the shackles.

"I love you, Papa," Isabella said to her father on that morning, thrilled that he was still alive and clutching his sword as if ready to fend off death the moment it reared its ugly head, "even if you are a drunken Duke."

Later that day, Duchess Renee said to Edward when he visited with his parents to sign the contract, "She requested that you not see her until the wedding. As you can well guess, she is superstitious and doesn't want anything to ruin this."

"I understand," Edward said with a polite nod. "Letters will suffice in the meantime, especially since I am due back in Aragon tomorrow. Please give her this for me and tell her that I await our first conversation with bated breath."

Renee took the golden locket from Edward and nodded. "I will see that she gets it."

On that day the marital contract was signed and sealed by the exchange of gifts between the two families. All the while Isabella sat at her window and stared out at the fields, a silent smile painted on her lips as she thought of her Aragonite Prince and the gift he had already given to her and her family. No material offering could top that - the death of the Dywer curse.

Even if it had never really existed, at least in the minds of all those in the kingdom, the curse was already dying a slow but natural death since the Duke was still very much alive and a new wedding was announced. The Canterbury Kingdom was all abuzz in disbelief and Isabella couldn't wait to put the final nail in the curse's coffin with the birth of her first son. That would show them. She could barely contain the emotion.

XXX

The weeks passed by in a chaotic whir. Isabella was the bride to be but it was the other women in the house who suffered multiple and sporadic meltdowns. The wedding was to take place in Aragon since that was where Isabella would then reside and eventually take the throne. The preparations were handled with extreme care and precision, and not surprisingly, since the announcements had taken place, the Swan household was the new point of interest to all in the Kingdom. In fact, this wedding created such an uproar it got more attention than the local royal wedding itself. Princess Elizabeth was confused and couldn't help but purse her lips in irritation at the thought of Prince Edward - the man she would have been marrying, though she knew a marriage to him wouldn't have generated quite this much interest. He certainly had a way of stealing the show, but it was Isabella who held the spotlight. She couldn't wait for the Swans to be swept away to Aragon for their wedding so that she could re-claim the spotlight again and finally be rid of them.

Two days before the wedding, the Aragonite cavalry arrived in England to collect the bride to be and her family. All those from the British Kingdom who were invited started making their way across as well.

Only when she entered Aragon did Isabella feel the first real prick of nervousness. Her new wardrobe suited her fine but she was suddenly self conscious as scores of people lined the streets and jostled each other to get a peek of her. She had felt inadequate most of her life, but this was nerve wrecking. If it wasn't for their loud cheering and waving of handkerchiefs, which she decided was acceptance, she would have been terrified. She had never missed her sisters at her side so badly.

When finally she was safely ensconced in the palace she took a moment to exhale and reassess her surroundings. What she had seen of the country so far was charming and she had no words to describe the lush comfort of the Palace. However, most important to her was the note and single rose waiting for her on the foot of the bed.

_Welcome home, My Isabella. _

_I count the moments until my eyes are graced with your face again, whence I shall properly acquaint myself with my fountain girl and have the honor of taking her hand in mine. I trust your journey was comfortable and that you found favour with your ring as I do with mine. Rest well, My Lady. Until tomorrow. _

_Your Prince, _

_Edward._

She fingered the engagement ring on her finger then and smiled another secret smile. There was very little the prince could do that she wouldn't find favor with.

XXX

"Jacob," she whispered, standing alone in her chambers in her wedding gown the morning after. "I know we haven't properly talked about this yet and I know that since my engagement things have been chaotic and strange between us, but I need to thank you. You were there for me when no one else was, and the only one who really accepted my idiosyncrasies without judgement. Please don't think this is goodbye. It's only goodbye for some times, since my days will now be filled with Edward. You'll always be the best friend I ever had and I will love you always for that. I hope you understand and I hope that I have your blessing. I am happy, Jacob, and I know that's important to you."

An alien but familiar warmth touched her face then and like every time it had happened before, her heart jumped, her eyes closed and she smiled.

"Thank you," she whispered one last time, dabbing at the small tear under her eye.

Then with renewed confidence, she opened the door and let the hoards of family and servants barge back in to whisk her out of the palace and to the church.

XXX

She didn't need the organ music to pull her up the long aisle. The strong, cloaked back of the man at the very top pulled her forward. She felt his energy though he didn't look around. His head was held high and forward, his shoulders square as he knelt on the step before the altar.

She walked, one slow step at a time as she made her way to him, every step taking longer than the last. The music faded behind the periphery of her consciousness and the staring faces of the congregation blurred under the heavy veil she wore. The Duke squeezed her hand, making his presence at her side known, but Edward was all she saw. He was all she felt. And when finally her feet put her at his side and she was helped into a kneeling position beside him, every cell in her body ricocheted at the sheer closeness of him. She wanted to look at him so badly, wanted to see his face again but was unsure if she was allowed to.

Her heavy dress was poofed and spread out all around her which put more distance between them, but somehow his fingers found her gloved ones across the space. Her heart all but stopped its erratic pace when she felt his hand clasp firmly around hers, a touch both alien and familiar at the same time.

"Hello," she heard him whisper under the priest's chanting, squeezing her hand gently to offer encouragement.

Her heart resumed its chaotic drumming again when suddenly she remembered the hundreds of eyes prodding at her back. This was it. This was her wedding day. This man beside her, this Prince, would be her husband in a few minutes and she would assume a new life in a new country with new responsibilities. The curse suddenly felt like a thing so far away it almost never existed; an inkling of an experience so many worlds away she wouldn't have guessed it had once shaped her so resolutely. As much as she had always been a spectacle of some sort all her life, for the most part, she had felt invisible. Now she wasn't. She was being presented in front her her family and his, in front of the council, their parliament and some of hers, in front of a nation. She was about to become the Aragonite Princess.

As if sensing her anxiety, Edward squeezed her small hand again. This time she turned her face and looked up at him, seeing him for the first time since the day at the Royal Games. He smiled and the pressure from his hand turned to a caress, churning her anxiety into calm. She was again able to tune out the demands of the congregation at her back once she re-focused on him. It was in that moment she knew she was ok. He was confident where she was scared, powerful where she felt inadequate, and steady when her insides reeked of turmoil. She felt safe with Edward. She felt safe.

The ceremony was long and various rituals were passed, then finally Edward was able to lift the veil away from her face and look into the eyes he had been longing to see for weeks. He was not disappointed. She was just as beautiful as he remembered, even more so now that she had desire and recognition in her eyes.

He held her face gently between his hands and tilted her up to him, gazing down at her as he closed the space with his lips.

"Hello, fountain girl," he whispered against her mouth before kissing her.

Could it be that a woman of the Dwyer lineage was married in such fashion, without the groom being hoodwinked? Or was this still a trick of some sort, played on the bride this time instead of the groom? Because surely, as Princess Isabella stood there in the arms of her prince in front the congregation of applauding citizens, it was still hard to believe. It was more than just a dream come true. It was an answered prayer.

Edward had no qualms about whisking his wife away immediately after the ceremony. It was customary in those times for the bride and groom to consummate the marriage right away. So when he lifted his bride into the carriage, slammed the doors shut and started mauling her with kisses, it came as no surprise to her - though perhaps she wasn't sure how to respond.

"Pardon me, Isabella," he breathed coaxingly against her lips, feeling her hesitation. "I'm Edward, Prince of Aragon. It's nice to finally meet you."

Giggling at his silliness, she braved the space between her fingers and his hair and touched him shyly. At the sound of her laughter he stopped and drew his face back to look at her. "Thank goodness you laugh nothing like your sister."

That made her laugh even harder, breaking the ice a little more.

"Forgive my appetite," he said with a crooked smile. "The past weeks have been long."

"The past weeks?" She answered with a smile. "I've waited my whole life for the curse to be..."

He hushed her with a finger to her mouth, shook his head slightly and replaced his finger with his lips. She knew then that there was to be no talk of the curse ever again.

The wedding garments were painful to cut through. There were layers and barriers of tulle and trimmings, bows and lacings, under-dresses and stockings and alas...the corset.

Her chest was already spilling out before he had the chance to tear it open at the back, heaving under his insatiable gaze. Isabella shocked herself.

The weeks of anticipation had built enough tension to have them both tearing at the seams, especially for Edward who had admired her from afar but could never get close enough to actually talk to her, let alone touch her.

Now she was in his bed, his wife, shy but willing, and wanting him back. He passed his eyes over her pale, vestal body and smiled, thankful now that the rest of the Canterbury Kingdom was foolish enough to believe in that wretched curse. That made her his to claim.

He knew she was unsure of herself. He knew she was trying to be brave, could see the bashfulness control the very way she lay beneath his absorbing gaze. He bent over to kiss her reassuringly, slowly, and slowly he would go until every knot in her body untied to meet his.

He felt her relax as the minutes rolled by, as they discovered the newness of each other with nothing but time to spare. Moments faded to minutes, minutes to hours, slow to intense and tenderness to sweet pain. Her world exploded as he claimed what was his, making sure to touch every inch of her both inside and out. She would soon grow accustomed to him and he had no doubt that there would be love. He was pretty darned sure he loved her already.

When it was over and he fell to her side, stroking strands of wet hair away from her face, something occurred to him.

"I have one question perhaps," he said with a finger in the air.

Pulling the covers up to her chin she smiled a lazy smile and looked at him in answer.

"How does Jacob feel about all of this?" He asked, concerned.

The fact that he should ask at all, that he acknowledged Jacob as a part of her life without ridicule or judgement touched her, though she couldn't hide her embarrassment.

"Is it alright for me to ask about him?" He asked, suddenly unsure of himself, worried that he had gone too far.

"You don't think I'm peculiar?" She asked.

"Oh yes I do," he said teasingly, and when she frowned he poked her cheek and kissed her nose, chuckling lightly. "And that's one of my favorite things about you, dear Isabella."

"Really?"

"Absolutely."

"Jacob is...happy, as long as I am happy, I suppose." She dared to answer, feeling strange to acknowledge her friend to her new husband.

"That is acceptable," he said, smilingly, touching her nose gingerly. It would soon be his new favorite part of her face. "You must give him my regards and assure him that I intend to take very, _very_ good care of you."

He was prepared to accept the idea of Jacob for no reason other than the fact that he was an essential part of who she was, and a significant piece of the puzzle he couldn't wait to put together.

"And Edward?"

"Hmmm?"

"You can call me Bella."

Feeling pleased with himself, he smiled a huge smile. "So much progress in just one night. Thank You, My Lady, for saying yes to me."

"Oh no, Edward," she answered, propping her body up on her elbows with new conviction in her eyes. "Thank _You_."

THE END

XXX

**A/N: That's it! I hope you enjoyed! I thoroughly enjoyed writing it, ****and sincerely hope that I've done your prompt justice :) Thank you for reading.**


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